Chances (36 page)

The impact of his statement worked it way into her understanding, crashing into her heart. She stared at Bowers, unable to find the words she wanted. She steadied herself and took a deep breath. “And if it’s not true?”

“It appears true. That’s all that matters.” Bowers shook his white head. “You need to leave, Miss Donovan, the sooner the better. In the meantime, you stay away from Petterman. He’s a good man and doesn’t deserve to be brought down by your actions. But if you soil him with your continued attentions, the Chamber will have no choice but to revoke his membership and disassociate ourselves from him and his business.”

* * * * *

Frank Bates paced the tiny office at the depot, oblivious to the cold wind blowing through the empty lobby or the half-open door that had failed to latch behind the last departing passenger.

His world was spinning out of control. He’d trusted Lavinia, given her everything. She’d turned out just like all the rest, plotting against him, setting him up for the fall. A wave of fury blended with the desperation he’d felt since leaving the rally. He plopped onto the stool in front of the counter and stared at the wall.

Lavinia’s words stung as they echoed through his mind. She’d called him a ferret, said she despised him, made him out the fool. Well, she could just go to hell, too. Christ, the things he’d done for her.

He shivered and glanced through the ticket window toward the open door. Shit, how long had that been standing open?

He pulled his jacket shut and thought about getting up to close it. In the end, he figured it didn’t matter, no how. He might as well leave it open for the marshal. It’d be just like that bitch to go runnin’ to tattle on him. She knew everything. He pulled out Uncle Walter’s letter, received yesterday, and unfolded it. The official investigation was underway and the head office was awaiting the original papers. He read through the list of items he was to send, then slipped off the stool and pulled the tidy bundle of papers from the wooden box he’d hidden them in. He plopped them on the counter. They stared up at him, the wires he’d found in the garbage, the fake letter to Jim Wilson, and the page he’d ripped from the logbook with the poorly forged entry under Sarah’s name that day he took over her shift. It was all here, all the evidence he needed to solidify the scandal. It was also everything Lavinia needed to reveal his guilt.

Hell and spitfire!

Bile-like malice rose in his throat and he slammed his hand on the counter.

Damn her.

He’d have laid down his life for her and she’d shunned him, over and over, all in the name of her almighty important suffrage. She’d shut her heart to him, and all the adoration in the world hadn’t made any difference. All his efforts to please, everything, had been for naught.

Lavinia was nothing but a warped old hag.

He marched out of the office, his footsteps echoing as he crossed the lobby. He slammed the door shut and stomped back, his anger rising with each step.

He should have let Sarah take Lavinia down. Then they could have battled it out for leadership of the suffragists. If he’d have had more patience with Sarah in the first place, instead of letting his concern for Lavinia take over, he could have proven himself better than her without the forgeries. He’d gotten ahead of himself and look where it landed him.

He kicked a box out of his path, then grabbed the metal bucket that served as a garbage pail and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall with a resounding clang, its contents spewing through the room, and clattered to the floor.

Lavinia and Sarah and every other suffragist on God’s green earth could go to hell, for all he cared. Even that Susan B. Anthony woman for starting all the hullabaloo to begin with. Someone should have done her in long ago and saved them all. Then there wouldn’t be no women telegraphers and no suffrage rallies. And Lavinia would’ve married him in the first place.

Frank watched the bucket bounce, an idea sprouting in his mind like an over-watered weed.

He could stop them all, just as easy as pie.

He pulled an envelope out of the drawer and set it beside the bundle of papers. He addressed it to his uncle and stuffed the papers inside. He’d send them out with this morning’s mail, finishing what he’d started. That would take care of Sarah. He was too deep in to turn back now.

As for that Anthony woman, she was due on the noon train. If something happened to her, it would all stop. Women would keep to their places instead of threatening the livelihoods of decent men. They’d quit their plotting and manipulating.

And Lavinia, Lavinia would have nothing left to strive for, her life would be the waste she’d made his.

All he had to do was send the yard crew home, then walk away and ignore the wire instructions to divert the inferior train to the siding. Two trains headed straight toward each other on the same track would pretty much take care of things.

That would fix them. Everybody would know Frank Bates was nobody’s fool.

He glanced at his pocket watch, grabbed the envelope, and went to tell the boys they had the rest of the day off.

* * * * *

Daniel strode up Blake Street, Kate and Molly straggling behind him.

“Papa, wait for us,” Molly called.

Daniel sighed and slowed his step. He’d almost forgotten the girls. There was no sense taking this out on them. He paused, squinted at the sun, and waited for them to catch up. They shuffled through the snow and stood before him, downcast. He scooped Molly into his arms and offered a thin smile to Kate. “Let’s get you two home.”

Molly buried her head against his shoulder while Kate grasped his arm in a brief squeeze but both remained silent.

He almost wished they’d start chattering, anything to occupy his mind. He felt ill-used, drained from worry, downright weary. Or maybe it was just that he was so stunned that Sarah had put the girls in danger. Last night, she’d lain in his arms, offered him her body and her passion, and taught him the earth could shatter. The earth, and his heart.

They neared the house and he set Molly down, then opened the door. The girls entered without a sound. Molly’s eyes were moist and full of regret. She crossed the front hall without shedding her coat and climbed up the stairs to her room, still silent. Kate followed, pausing halfway up the stairs, and turned back toward him.

“Papa?” she said.

“Hmmm?”

“You didn’t even listen to her. Are you sure this is what you want?” She dropped the words and continued up the stairs.

Daniel closed the door, not at all sure. He paced through the house, listless. Finally, he stepped into his shop and plopped into his desk chair.

Damn it.

Sure? Hell, no. He wasn’t sure about anything. He wasn’t sure about what had happened back there at the rally or about how he had reacted or about any of his jumbled up emotions. He wasn’t used to dealing with emotions at all. It had always been easier just to label them inappropriate and shut them off. Now, they wouldn’t stop and he couldn’t even begin to sort them out.

He leaned forward, his head in his hands, and closed his eyes. Visions of Sarah exploded through his consciousness. Sarah, lecturing him about taking a stand on the things he believed in. Sarah, surprisingly afraid to step out onto the ice. Sarah, learning to laugh at herself at a German beer hall. Sarah, making things happen and teaching his daughters to express themselves. Sarah, full of passion, coaching him to experience life in ways he’d never dreamed of. Sarah, hiding herself behind brown work skirts so no one would reject her.

Oh, God.

He jerked up in the chair and his blood all but stopped moving.

Last night, she’d come out from behind that facade, and today he’d turned his back on her, cutting off her explanation before she could even offer it.

Guilt and remorse flooded through him followed immediately by realization.
She didn’t mean for them to come.

The thought thundered through his mind. How many times had she said she didn’t know how to talk to children? She spoke to them as if they were adults, but always with concern and protectiveness.

She wouldn’t have endangered the girls, not for all the glory or equal rights in the world.

Daniel shoved the chair out of the way and rushed out of the office.

He couldn’t lose her, not now, not when he’d finally discovered he could love.

* * * * *

Sarah walked into the depot and shut the door. An eerie silence accosted her. For once, she welcomed it.

Bowers’s words weighed on her, heavy and unyielding. It didn’t matter if she explained things to Daniel or whether he believed her. If what Bowers said was true, if Frank had set her up so well that there was an investigation, then things had changed. Bowers had made it clear that consequences reached much farther than she’d imagined.

She entered the office and stopped suddenly. The station was completely empty. There was no delivery boy, no freight crew, and no Frank Bates. On the counter above the empty stool, the telegraph was rattling wildly.

Sarah ran forward, deciphering the dots and dashes as she moved. She grabbed a pencil and scratched the letters on the first paper she could find.

Where in heaven’s name was Frank?

The message ended and she shuffled in the drawer for the proper day letter forms, amazed anew at the mess Frank always seemed to create out of her tidy organization. She laid the form on the counter and reached for a pen and the paper she’d scribbled the message on. She dipped into the ink well and began to copy the words then paused and set the pen down.

Her hastily written words were at the bottom of an official letter from the main office of the Kansas-Pacific advising Frank Bates that the investigation of Sarah Donovan was underway. She picked up the letter and scanned it, finding verification of everything Bowers had told her earlier along with instructions to Frank to mail the supporting documents as soon as possible.

Sarah’s heart sank. She wasn’t sure what Frank intended to send for proof, but she suspected it wasn’t good. She glanced at the clock. Almost noon. He was likely at the post office with it right now.

A nagging, unwelcome thought wormed its way into her mind. It appeared Frank had set her up very well. The main office might indeed find her guilty of every allegation, and Denver would turn its back on her.

She slammed the paper on the desk and fought the urge to fire off a complaint to the main office. She glanced toward the door, knowing there was a narrow chance she could catch Frank before he mailed his package. She could fight this and win, proving herself both innocent and worthy. But at what cost?

She’d already unwittingly endangered the girls. If she fought this, here in Denver, how much disgrace would she unwittingly bring on Daniel? Depending on what Frank was alleging, the scandal could destroy everything Daniel held valuable. Her defense would very likely destroy the man she loved.

And that, she wouldn’t be a party to.

She glanced around the office, her chest tight, and spotted a small wooden box. She emptied it of its contents and began to fill it with her own belongings while searing pain ripped at her until there was nothing left but a vacant hole.

Tears welled in her eyes and she shook her head to clear them away. She wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t.

She stared at the wall, feeling the emptiness begin.

Chapter Twenty-two

Packing didn’t take long. Sarah dropped the last of her personal belongings into the box and sighed. An old knitted hat, her chipped bone-china coffee cup, and a few assorted knick-knacks that the
Little Women
cast had given her as gifts didn’t seem like much of a life. Another unwanted tear formed in the corner of her eye and she brushed at it with her palm.

Lord, it was quiet today. January was slow, anyway, and with most of Denver up at the rally waiting to see if any riots erupted, the station was deserted. Perhaps that was where the crew, along with the company horse, had disappeared to.

She ran her hand over the logbook and fingered the telegraph key.

At least she had her primary operator’s status. Strange how it didn’t seem to mean much anymore; not beyond being a professional advantage. The achievement just didn’t hold the fulfillment she’d expected. What had mattered most was holding Kate and Molly when they needed her. Safe or not, they had needed her. That and being wrapped in Daniel’s arms, sated by love.

Her heart squeezed and she closed her eyes, savoring the fullness of her memories, and dreading the emptiness to come.

Fighting her battle alone against Frank’s allegations was a bleak prospect, and proving him wrong would be no more fulfilling than the fight. She sank onto the stool and wiped away a tear.

All these years, she’d hidden behind her struggles to be the best, to make a difference, to win admiration, when all she had to do was quit hiding. Daniel and the girls hadn’t needed her to achieve anything. They’d loved her sitting on the ice, mis-stepping on the dance floor, and making hot cocoa. Seeking women’s suffrage and knowing how to send a telegraph were just part of her, not her whole substance.

She sniffled and shook her head. Lord, how she wished she hadn’t mucked things up so badly, that there was a way to bask in all they’d given her without ruining their lives. She hadn’t even given a thought to how her grandstanding might embarrass Daniel or lead the girls into situations they didn’t understand. And now it was too late to fix things without making the mess worse. She swiped both palms across her cheeks and sighed, forcing away the tears that still lurked behind her eyes.

The click of the telegraph arm broke the silence and she leaned forward to decipher the message. Where was Frank, anyway? This was his shift, not hers.

The brief wire was a reminder about the twelve o’clock Special. She’d almost forgotten about the extra noon train from Cheyenne and its load of suffragists, Susan B. Anthony and the other dignitaries Lavinia Morgan had invited to the rally. She jotted down the message, recorded it in the logbook, then glanced at the switch log to verify the dispatcher’s orders.